<p>The rush of cool air was welcome as I got into the Volvo bus from the crowded street. There were hardly any passengers and I heard a tiny yelp as I was settling down on a seat close to the driver.<br /><br /></p>.<p> Not sure what it signified or where it came from, I ignored it. Soon the yelp grew in intensity and frequency and its source was unmistakable – a Pekingese dog perched in its owner’s bag in the last seat. <br /><br />People who own such fancy dogs don’t travel by public transport, I thought. I also noticed that the dog had a red bow while its owner wore a red sweater. <br /><br />These are newfangled things – making dogs wear hats, coats and bows. The lady appeared haughty too. She had plonked her bag on the seat next to her as if daring anyone to sit there. <br /><br />The driver must have read my expression. “These are rich folks, they spend more on their dogs than what we do on our entire families,” he whispered in Kannada. “Why did you allow her dog to get into the bus? Isn’t there a rule that prohibits animals on board?” I enquired. <br /><br />“See, Madam, don’t we allow hens, fish and even a rare goat in our village buses? This is not a crowded route at this hour, so no harm, really,” replied the driver even as he deftly veered the bus through the chaotic traffic.<br /><br />Then the lady’s phone rang piercing the silence inside the bus. “Yes, I am bringing Shaanu. I know my appointment was at 10.30 am, but my car broke down and I had to take a bus. Ask the doctor to wait please,” the lady said. <br /><br />Since the bus went to Hebbal, I deduced that she was taking the dog to the veterinary college. Then the phone rang again. “I am not at home, Shaanu is sick. Your father went to work and the driver is on leave today.<br /><br /> I decided to take her by myself,” she said. More conversation followed. The incessant chatter and the bus ride lulled me momentarily.<br /><br />Then the driver braked suddenly and even as I struggled to remain on the seat, I was horrified to see the bag fall and Shaanu tumble down the aisle! The lady dropped her phone and gathering her considerable girth got up to grab the dog. <br /><br />The pup had by then recovered. It stopped on its tracks and promptly threw up. The lady yelled at the driver for his reckless driving and got off the bus in a huff even before he could react. That she had neither cleaned up after her dog nor apologised for the mess irked me long after I got off.</p>
<p>The rush of cool air was welcome as I got into the Volvo bus from the crowded street. There were hardly any passengers and I heard a tiny yelp as I was settling down on a seat close to the driver.<br /><br /></p>.<p> Not sure what it signified or where it came from, I ignored it. Soon the yelp grew in intensity and frequency and its source was unmistakable – a Pekingese dog perched in its owner’s bag in the last seat. <br /><br />People who own such fancy dogs don’t travel by public transport, I thought. I also noticed that the dog had a red bow while its owner wore a red sweater. <br /><br />These are newfangled things – making dogs wear hats, coats and bows. The lady appeared haughty too. She had plonked her bag on the seat next to her as if daring anyone to sit there. <br /><br />The driver must have read my expression. “These are rich folks, they spend more on their dogs than what we do on our entire families,” he whispered in Kannada. “Why did you allow her dog to get into the bus? Isn’t there a rule that prohibits animals on board?” I enquired. <br /><br />“See, Madam, don’t we allow hens, fish and even a rare goat in our village buses? This is not a crowded route at this hour, so no harm, really,” replied the driver even as he deftly veered the bus through the chaotic traffic.<br /><br />Then the lady’s phone rang piercing the silence inside the bus. “Yes, I am bringing Shaanu. I know my appointment was at 10.30 am, but my car broke down and I had to take a bus. Ask the doctor to wait please,” the lady said. <br /><br />Since the bus went to Hebbal, I deduced that she was taking the dog to the veterinary college. Then the phone rang again. “I am not at home, Shaanu is sick. Your father went to work and the driver is on leave today.<br /><br /> I decided to take her by myself,” she said. More conversation followed. The incessant chatter and the bus ride lulled me momentarily.<br /><br />Then the driver braked suddenly and even as I struggled to remain on the seat, I was horrified to see the bag fall and Shaanu tumble down the aisle! The lady dropped her phone and gathering her considerable girth got up to grab the dog. <br /><br />The pup had by then recovered. It stopped on its tracks and promptly threw up. The lady yelled at the driver for his reckless driving and got off the bus in a huff even before he could react. That she had neither cleaned up after her dog nor apologised for the mess irked me long after I got off.</p>
